


Bring The Rain

by Liebisadick



Series: bring the rain [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye (YouTuber RPF), Markiplier (Youtuber RPF)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebisadick/pseuds/Liebisadick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark loved the rain. He loved how gentle it was- he never expected it to bring him Jack who had a thunderstorm heart and bruises he couldn't let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bring the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fic I suppose so please if any input or ideas can be offered I'd love to hear them! I'm nervous to post for the first time on my own but I hope you can enjoy. All the chapter titles are inspired off of Finish Ticket song titles. Have a nice day! ~remur

People hated the rain but he loved it. Mark had always loved the rain, the way it felt against warm skin or how it seemed to bring a sense of purity after every spring shower. The feeling of the cool water on his face always brought him to smile; his eyes closed and face held up to greet the sky. 

 

He loved the rain. 

Mark sat in his car, engine off, leaning back with his head looking up towards the sunroof as he watched the rain patter against the glass. A smile played at his lips as he enjoyed the soft sound, the calm rhythm that made a slight sense of sleepy ease wash over him. Other than the sound of the birds outside and the sound of the rain, everything had been quiet until he heard laughter. 

Blinking, he frowned. Wait- laughter? Tilting his seat up, he looked around before finding a curious scene before him. What the hell? A man just across the street was hopping back and forth from leg to leg, splashing through the puddles as if he were just like a little kid stomping through the muddy mess. Dirt and water splashed up, spraying the man who just laughed happily as he enjoyed himself, bright green hair stuck to his forehead by the rain and blue hoodie soaked thoroughly. What was even more odd to him than this strangers childlike playing was that he had no umbrella, no car around and a small worn out bag and what looked like a mound of cloth in between the alley way. 

Even with all of this, Mark smiled despite himself as he watched the other sprint through the rain. It was odd to do this, but it was slightly wonderful. Seeing yet another adult running and laughing through the rain, enjoying it in his own way just as Mark was. He laughed before looking down at his watch, eyes widening. “Oh shit, I'm late!" 

Starting the car, the stranger's attention was drawn towards the noise and he stopped his play as he looked over at Mark and Mark caught his gaze before chewing the inside of his cheek. “Busted.” he muttered to himself, backing out of the parking lot and pulling into the street. Taking one last glance over his shoulder, he looked to see the man giving a wave at Mark’s car before turning back to look at the sky. Holding back a smile, he decided he very much loved the rain.  
____

The rain didn’t let up for two more days. And each day, the image of the happy green haired man dancing through the street played in the back of his mind. What was he even doing out there doing that? He understood that nobody was really around besides himself (the parking lot was where he went to think) but if nobody else was really out why was he? Was he okay? Did he live around there? He sat in his car once more, thinking it over as he waited for the red light to turn green. Frowning, he shook his head and sighed. 

“What do you think Tim?” he asked, looking down at the small golden retriever puppy. Tim just barked happily, nose pressed against the glass of the car door as if wanting to get out. “Oh no,” Mark chuckled, reaching out and petting the puppy. “Last time I let you out around here I found you fighting homeless cats for leftovers and that wasn’t a fun time for either of us was it.” Tim just barked in response, wagging his tail faster. 

Looking up, he saw a green flash which he only assumed to be the light. He nearly sped through the traffic but caught himself just in time to realize the green was hair. It was him again. Tim barked and Mark gawked, okay again. What the hell? 

This time the man wasn’t skipping through the rain once more, now he was standing still- in the middle of the road. Not only that, but he was looking up at the sky, fixated in a way Mark knew he himself had been before as well but not like this, not in the road with cars. Pressing his palm against the horn of the steering wheel, he honked several times trying to catch his attention. Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out the window and honked a few more times. “Hey buddy! Buddy, get out of the road!” he yelled. Not a single response. 

Frowning, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door open after saying ‘Stay,’ to Tim and stepping out. Closing the door, he slowly walked towards the other slowly. “Hey?” he asked softly, straightening his coat collar. “You can’t stay here man, you’re blocking the way.” Walking up behind him, he hesitantly reached out to touch him. “Buddy?” 

Slowly the face turned from upward to look to him, and Mark’s brows furrowed as he looked at the man. The first thing he saw was blue eyes just as foggy as the sky today in contrast to the bright green hair. Then he saw the dark circles under his eyes, and the dirt covering his face and bruise on his cheeks. It didn’t even feel like the man could see Mark, making a sick feeling in his stomach. He seemed okay just a few days ago. Risking the reaction, he put his hands on the wet shoulders and shook him. “We got to get out of the road, you hear me man? Come on.” he tugged him gently, the man just staring blankly at him but following the pulls on his arm. 

They walked out of the middle of the road, trying to ignore the chorus of shouts and honks from other drivers waiting for the two men that blocked the road to get out. Opening the passenger side of the car, he pushed Tim to the back seat and went to his own side to get in. Waving at the other drivers to try and signal to them they were going, he looked over to the other man still standing in the rain just staring at the seat. Blinking a few times, he looked at Mark then back at the seat and slowly got in and closed the door. 

Sighing in relief, he pressed the gas as they unblocked the road, driving down the street to the nearest shopping complex. Glances were stolen as he caught several glimpses of the other, the thin face, the scruff across his cheeks and chin and the fingers that kept tugging at his sleeves. “I’m Mark.” he said, not even getting a response from him. “Listen, I can drop you off at a restaurant if you want, or maybe the hospital or-” 

“Jack.” 

“What?” He looked up, turning his gaze briefly to the man. 

“My name,” the voice was just a little higher than his, the accent undoubtedly Irish. Long way from home. “My name is Jack, and no thank you on the hospital or the restaurant it’s alright to drop me off anywhere.” 

Shaking his head, he tisked at the man- Jack he meant, at Jack. “I’m not gonna be an asshole and drop you soaking wet off on the road when I just got you out of one, not unless I know you’ll be fine.” 

Opening his mouth then closing it, Jack frowned and just stared down at the floor and gripped his bag strap tighter. “I’m not hungry.” he said, making a smile almost play across Mark’s face. 

“I never said you were.” he tried not thinking about two days prior, the happy laughter and the odd dancing man through the streets. How could the man who waved to him so happily this man who sat curled up in himself in his front seat. “We can get food anyways cause I am. And so is Tim, right Tim?” he called over his shoulder, the puppy’s head popping out from the back seat and barking before burying his face under Jack’s arm. 

Almost spasming, he looked down at the dog who’s face was hidden under his soaking blue sleeve and how when it wagged it’s tail it’s whole body shook. He liked dogs. Nodding slowly at the offer, he closed his eyes and pulled his legs up. “Thanks for this. You didn’t have to.” 

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. As long as you don’t try and murder me I think we’ll be okay.” 

Laughing, Jack smiled a bit. “What if I was? Don’t I just look like a terrifying serial killer? I mean look at these plus one biceps, they could take down anyone.” he joked, and Mark raised a brow smiling. 

“What muscles?” he wondered if he actually had any muscles under that oversized hoodie. “You look like a fucking green bean man.” 

“Hey!” Jack laughed louder, smiling and looking up for the first time. His smile was crooked, and for a moment his eyes were brighter and Mark almost choked on his breath. “I am the manliest green bean then! Green bean getting food from you pretty boy.” 

Fingers gripping the steering wheel, Mark almost did really choke. Oh boy. Who the fuck he just pick up?


	2. Scavenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark find's his friend in need - and doesn't he feel like an asshole for yelling

The meal was nothing but cheap fast food and cold fountain drinks. And he watched as Jack ate his way through two burgers, a large fry and a large chocolate milkshake. Mark just smiled as he fed Tim his own small fries, sipping at his coke and greasy fingers being licked clean by Tim as he waited for Jack to finish.

Many things about the other man stood out, most prominently was the image of him two days ago. The way his laugh sounded, and the way he met the rain with his head up to the sky and his arms out as if greeting it like a long time friend. The way he seemed so happy and carefree- the way his face bruised. The way his cheek was a dark and swollen purple, contrasting just how pale he was. The way his lips were cracked and bleeding, and the way the dark circles under his eyes emphasized how dull his eyes were . What the fuck happened and why the fuck did he care?

“Jack,” he started cautiously, the other man stopping mid bite of his fries and looking at him.

“Yeah Markimoo?”

Again with the ridiculous nicknames, it made him snort and shake his head as he grinned. “You’re fucking weird man.” he scoffed. Letting Tim have the rest of his left overs much to the puppy’s delight, he wiped his hands off on his pants trying to get the last of the grease off. “As much as I like having lunch with you and your bottomless pit of a stomach, it’d be sorta nice to actually know who I’m eating with isn’t some serial killer nicknamed The Leprechaun or some shit.” 

Laughing, Jack rolled his eyes. “So I’m the Leprechaun just cause I’m Irish? You racist fucker. I’d have a cooler name than that anyways.” he tossed his crumpled wrapper at him before leaning back against the car door. “What do you wanna know that will convince you of my non murderous intent?” 

“What sort of things do you like doing for fun?” Going small would be the best if not only option, saying ‘Hey, I fed you now tell me your life story,’ was definitely not going to fly. 

Mulling the question over for several moments, Jack’s eyes brightened. “I love and I mean love video games.” he chuckled. “I know some people find them silly, but I can’t help but fall in love with some of them.” 

“Oh man, me too!” Mark said excitedly. “What’s your favorite games?” 

“Shadow of the Colossus!” Jack chirped, getting equally as excited. Mark practically beamed at him telling him it was his favorite as well. And that’s how the next two hours were spent in Mark’s car talking about video games, or movies. How Mark learned Jack’s favorite emotional game was The Beginners Guide because it related a lot to himself he said, or how he knew a little bit of Korean which was crazy since Mark was part Korean. Jack went on and on talking about how he majored in ‘hotel managing of all things, can you believe that?’ and how his name was actually Sean but people called him Jack for some ridiculous reason. How his real goal in life was to really just help people be happy and be a shoulder to lean on whenever someone was in need. 

It was all fantastic, all amazing and he repeatedly reassured Jack that he wanted to hear more as he became engrossed in the stories. But despite all that was said, he barely noticed how anytime something relating to him personally or about Ireland and his home he’d stop. He’d breath. And he’d change subjects with such practiced ease he almost didn’t catch it. 

Mark told him about his own life. How he liked video games, he wanted to sing. How he too wanted to help people and be a shoulder to cry on, about his two best friends that were basically his brothers living all the way in Cincinnati while he had moved here to try and experience the new and wonderful things California had to offer. Talks of video games, of surgeries and their scars (which was badass according to Jack) , and finally about his family. He watched Jack’s face as he talked about his parents and brother, about the day they broke up and the day his father passed in his arms. 

“I knew I couldn’t stop it, but I wished.” he looked down, blinking furiously as tears threatened to gather and he tilted his head back and cleared his throat before shaking his head. He expected Jack to look at him with pity, or annoyance, shock even, but he just sat there- looking at him with a small smile on his face. Trying not to smile back, Mark chuckled. “No kidding, you are good at listening.” 

“I know, one of my many fabulous talents.” he grinned, in all ways being a reassurance in what probably was an awkward time. 

“Sorry to just go off like that,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to just go on this tangent here.” 

Shrugging, Jack tilted his head back against the window. “I kinda liked it. Made me realize you probably weren’t some serial killer either. You’re too damn weepy.” he teased with a smirk. 

“Ass,” he smacked him, making both of them laugh. Looking down at the clock on the radio, Mark’s eyes widened and he swore under his breath. “Oh man, we’ve been loitering here for two hours.” 

“Is it really loitering if we paid for food?” 

“I paid you doof,” looking back at Tim who was sleeping in the back seat he sighed. “I better take him home and let him go out. But what about you?” he turned back. “Anywhere I can drop you off? Your house or a store or street?” 

The excited spark in Jack’s eyes faded fast, and it almost hurt seeing the bright sky blue return back to it’s foggy look. Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, Jack fiddled with the hem of his hoodie. “Drop me off at Brooks and Inkster if you can. I’m just gonna meet up with some friends.” 

Nodding, he started the car. “Brooks and Inkster, got it.” 

\----  
Or not. 

Mark expected to take Jack somewhere nice, maybe store to meet his friends or maybe even their house. What he didn’t expect was this wrecked street in god knows where downtown. The street was cracked and filled with potholes, the small store shops were majorily shut down with boarded up windows and doors. He didn’t even know if he’d know how to get back home from here he was so deep into unfamiliar territory. “Um, Jack,” he asked finally, peeking around their surroundings. “You sure it’s here.”

Nodding, Jack just stared out the window holding his backpack and pointing ahead of them. “Just drop me off at this store up here.” Looking towards where his finger was pointing, Mark squinted his eyes at the sign. 

“Boss’s Music Shop? Your friends and you hang out at a music shop called Boss?” 

“It’s a cool place.” he countered, waiting for Mark to pull up close to the sidewalk. Reaching in the back, he stroked Tim’s head before getting out of the car. “Hey, thanks for the food and just- I dunno, everything today I guess Mark. It means a lot.” 

Giving a small bashful smile, he waved off his compliment and smiled. “It was nothing Jack, my pleasure honestly. Oh- before you go though, if it’s alright with you, wanna trade phone numbers or something? Maybe we can hang out again sometime.” 

Jack bit his lower lip and chewed it, hesitating before shaking his head no. “I’d love to hang out again, but see, my phone’s been broken and since I don’t use it much I don’t really wanna put the money into fixing it.” The look Mark gave him must have been disappointed, because quickly the Irishman recanted his statement and started fumbling over his words slightly. “Um, just, how about we meet back at the fast food place next Thursday same time, this time it’ll be my treat.” 

Staring at him for a moment, he finally smiled and held out his hand for him to shake. “Deal.” 

“Alright. See you Thursday.” 

\----

Liar. 

Thursday at noon was their scheduled time, they even fucking shook on it like some sort of businessmen assholes but it was almost 2 and there was no sign of the green haired man anywhere. Drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, he looked down at the bag of food he bought for them both despite it being Jack’s turn to treat. Giving another glance around, he pressed his head on the steering wheel and groaned. “Fuck. You got played Fishbach.” he muttered. A dine and dash, how classy. 

Pissed, he started his car and tapped his palm now against the steering wheel before swearing more. Stupid. Why would Jack come back to meet him? Not like they were friends or anything. Not like Mark hadn’t poured basically his entire life into some green haired beanpole in payment for a three dollar cheeseburger. Idiot. 

Despite his annoyed attitude, he needed to clear his head. He didn’t really know why he cared so much, but he did, and that was stupid. So like the stupid guy he was, he went to the parking lot that he first saw Jack. Not creepy he swore to God. Heading to his spot (emphasis on his) he looked up at the sky seeing how clear it was. Shame, he sort of wanted it to rain again, even if a slight spring shower. 

What he didn’t expect though was fucking man of the hour himself walking down the street, at the exact same store as he had seen him the first time. “Motherfu-” parking in his usual spot, Mark got out of the car and crossed quickly, waving at the cars in the traffic as he tried to slip by as quickly as possible. Making it to the other side, he set a quick stride trying to catch up. “Jack? Hey Jack!” he called, trying to catch his attention. 

Jogging slightly, he caught up behind Jack who made no effort to pull away besides side stepping him. “Hey, Jack, what the hell man. I thought we had plans, you forget?”

Glancing at him quickly from the corner of his eye, the green haired man gave a laugh though much more nervous than his normal ones, more curt. Fingers tapping at his sides, he nodded keeping his face away from Mark. “Yeah I uh- Just forgot. Sorry man. Maybe we can do it some other time, today really isn’t a good day for it.” 

“You okay?” Starting to pick up stride, he tried matching pace but as soon as he did Jack walked a bit faster. 

“Mark, stop-” he mumbled. 

“Jack, I just want to make sure you’re okay, I mean I thought we were all good ya know?” he gave a half hearted laugh. “I mean I know it’s stupid to be annoyed and stuff, but I’m stupid so I just wanted to make sure and stuff, and I bought us food even though you said it’s your turn to treat and-” 

Cut off, he nearly ran into Jack who had stopped on the side-walk and stared directly ahead. “Fuck,” he whispered. “fuckfuck,” Turning around, he looked up at him and Mark’s brain stopped computing for a moment. His fucking face. 

Jack’s old bruise now was overlapped with a few more sickly yellow and purple bruises across the right side of his face. His lip had another crack in it leading dried blood to scab over the split and his the lines under his eyes looked even darker than before. Mouth agape, he took in every part of his disheveled look and tried thinking of what to say. ‘What happened in three days Jack?’ ‘Who did this to you?’ ‘Fuck Jack, I’m sorry,” all rolled around in his brain, but when he spoke what came out was, “Fuck.” Real eloquent. 

Scoffing, Jack looked down and placed a hand on his tender cheek. Scuffing his shoe against the pavement, he breathed deeply then sighed. “I didn’t have friends to go meet.” he admitted, looking up to see his confused look. “When you dropped me off at the shop. I didn’t have friends to meet. I didn’t want you to see where I was going.” 

“Why?” he prodded, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You aren’t in some kind of gang or drug thing right?” he asked worriedly. 

“What? God no,” he shook the hand off his shoulder, stepping away from Mark. “I uh- didn’t want you seeing where I was staying man.” 

“What do I care about where you live Jack?” 

“Barnes Homeless Shelter. I kinda think you’d care.” he mumbled and looked away again. 

Oh shit, ooh shit. Ooooh shit. 

“Jack, shit,” he got out, trying to think of what to say. “So you’re at Wade’s Shelter and the dickhead never told me.” he grumbled. ‘Not that I talked to Wade at all this week.’ He thought before shaking his head. “I don’t get it though, Wade’s got an amazing set up there. Why would anyone hit you? Did you think I’d judge you if I knew you were homeless man?” 

 

“Yes!” He hissed, eyes snapping up at Mark. “Yes I think you’d fucking judge me Mark, not in a bad way maybe but you with how you are- I don’t fucking want pity Mark. I want something like everyone else has, I’m in a fucking new country and I don’t have anyone Mark and here you roll up in your fancy car with your dog and your amazing life you’re living and I just have shit-” voice breaking, he closed his eyes and held his breath trying to restrain himself. 

Brows knitting together in a look of worry, he got closer to him and placed his hands softly on his shoulders. “Jack? Jack c’mon, look at me man.” when the smaller man refused, he squeezed his shoulders lightly. “It’s okay. I don’t pity you Jack. I’m just worried man. I don’t like the idea of you being somewhere you don’t feel comfortable at. I can call Wade and see if he can find out who is doing this to you or I can-”

 

“What Mark?” he opened his eyes slightly, voice wavering. 

“You can stay with me.” He said soundly, Jack’s eyes snapping open and he looked up at him with wide eyes and a quivering lip. 

“Don’t fucking toy with me Mark, please-” he whined and Mark shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I know we just met and shit, but I’d be some kind of special asshole to not help a friend.” Seeing Jack open his mouth, he quickly added. “It’d be no problem. Tim seems to love you anyways which is actually pretty out of his normal attitude towards anyone not me. If Tim likes you then you’re practically family already.” he winked. 

Jack just gaped at him, feeling himself tremble slightly as he tried thinking about the proposition. “You don’t have to, I can’t just come to your house, you barely know me,” 

Already letting go of his shoulders, Mark had taken a step back from him and frowned. “C’mon Jackaboy, none of that.” he held his hand out for him to take, the other one pointing to his car on the other side of the street. “Let’s go Sean, it’ll be fine. Can’t let my friend just be some scavenger downtown now can I?” he smiled a bit, waiting for him. 

Looking at his hand, then up at him, hesitantly Jack took it and gave his head a little shake. “You’re some kinda special idiot Markimoo.” he snorted. 

“You know it Jackarooney.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a few days since I published the last so that means I should have spent time editing and stuff, but a lot has been going on personal wise so I'm basically writing now to try and get myself out of some dumb depressive slump. Also if this seems like a lot and unrefined it basically is since my brain spits out these ideas and if i don't write fast I forget super fast so this is all written in like a couple hours whoops.


	3. Lying Through Our Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is hurt- Mark is terrified, there's blood everywhere 
> 
> Trigger warning- self harm

Days with Jack were- well they were certainly something. 

Jack had come to be a somewhat awkward houseguest, everything he did he had to ask for Mark’s approval despite Mark’s protests that this was now his home too. It was easy to tell he just couldn’t get comfortable. He was always moving, always doing something, a different task or fluctuating between different topics of conversation. It was hard for Mark wrapping his head around him, what he wanted when everything Jack did seemed to be a contradiction within itself. 

How he was always tired, eyes closed during the daytime in brief moments of sleep threatened to wash over him and yet despite this Mark would find him awake at four am tossing and turning, the light in the guest room on as he skimmed through Mark’s collection of books. How he was always denying how hungry he was, and yet he would always eat at least half of what Mark would normally eat but wrappers and halves of sandwiches could be found littering the guest room as he stole himself a midnight snack. Or how he had always come to ask Mark about his life, things he’s done or people he hangs around with, interests and even his dreams for the future. Which that in itself seemed perfectly normal until he asked Jack once about his family in Ireland and Jack literally shut him out of his room for nearly a day and a half. How in God’s name was he supposed to get to know him besides what little things he had already been told? 

As days turned to slow weeks, Mark had come to figure out one thing about Jack. 

He was scared of getting to know Mark’s friends. He realized this when a surprise visit from Bob and Wade at his doorstep elicited a giddy happiness from Mark but as soon as the new voices drifted through the halls Jack moved from his position in the living room to retreat back to his room. Hugging his friends, he smiled happily almost forgetting about his house guest. “You gotta meet this guy staying with me,” Mark grinned, stepping away from them. 

“Oh Mark,” Wade raised a brow, a lopsided grin on his face. “When were you gonna tell us you got a boyfriend?” 

“Boyfriend?” He sounded confused for a moment before his cheeks felt warm and he shook his head quickly. “No, oh god no, he’s not- I mean we’re not- shut up Wade.” he sputtered out much to his friends delight, laughing as he tripped over his words. 

“I’m just messing with you buddy,” he reassured, Mark’s small pout enough to make him put his hands up in a yielding position. “You didn’t tell us you had a house guest though, I would have figured he would have come out once he heard us.” 

Placing his hand on the back of his neck, he rubbed it slowly trying to figure out exactly how to describe Jack. “Well- he’s a bit uh, well not shy that’s for sure he’s loud and energetic as all hell, he just doesn’t really know what to say or do sometimes. I’m sure he’d love to meet you guys though.” he glanced down the hallway and frowned at the closed door. “I’m gonna get him. You guys just relax. Going to Jack’s room, he hesitated before gently knocking on the door and putting his ear close to the door. 

“Jack, hey, I got some friends here that wanna meet you. You wanna come out?” Silence. Oh not this again. “Jack, hey I’m coming in alright.” he warned, turning the door knob slightly and stepping into Jack’s room. The man in question was laying face down on the bed, face buried in the embarrassing ‘Inhale My Dong Enragement Child’ embroidered pillows. Blue hoodie over his head, Mark frowned and walked to the bed. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” he sat down on the side of the bed, eyes focused on the smaller man who shook his head and shrugged. 

“I don’t know if I should come out there Mark. They’re your friends not mine.” came the muffled response. 

Confused, he raised a brow and pursed his lips. “Jack, that’s how you make friends. Talking to people, and I know you like hearing stories. They got some really great ones to tell, you’ll probably get to hear a lot about me making a complete fool of myself.” he chuckled, but there was no response besides a soft sigh. 

“No Mark, they’re ‘your’ friends,” he reiterated, turning his head slightly to look up at him. Despite the few weeks of healing, the faint color of the bruise remained on his thin cheek, the dark lines under his eyes more prominent than ever. “I shouldn’t be out there with you guys, I’m not- I mean I’m just,” frowning, he shook his head and closed his eyes in frustration. 

“Hey now,” he placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not gonna make you go out there if you don’t want to okay? But you are welcome with us Jack, you’re one of us and you’re my friend too.” 

Slowly the blue eyes opened once more, and he seemed to study Mark for a few moments contemplating. “Can you make sure they don’t ask me about my personal life?” he asked, almost surprising Mark. “I just don’t wanna have them ask and just, you know.” 

Nodding, he squeezed his shoulder again. “Don’t worry, I’ll let them know. Just come out with us Jack, it’ll be a fun time. The response time was slow but good, as he had moved away so did Jack, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position and pulling his hood down to card his fingers through his hair. Extending a hand, Mark waiting with a patient smile for Jack to accept before opening the door. 

Bob and Wade’s head turned from where they were at the couch, and Mark watched as Jack went from his slouched and tired posture to slowly transforming to someone brighter and peppier as he approached them. “Top o’ da mornin’ to ya laddies,my name is Jack!” he chirped, words fast and crisp. 

“Whoa,” Bob smirked looking at Mark. “Mark, you didn’t tell us your boyfriend was Irish.” 

“Oh my God-” he groaned out much to Jack’s amusement as he laughed loudly. 

\-----

From there things seemed to be a bit easier as time progressed. Needless to say Bob and Wade definitely got Jack to liven up their little get together. Stories about Mark (mostly embarrassing ones) were told, playful jabs traded and Jack’s laughter absolutely filled up the afternoon. It was the happiest he had seen Jack get since their first meeting. 

Weeks bled into a full month then two and slowly Jack started coming out of his shell. His posture straightened, his eyes brightened and he smiled more often. Mark just figured he was finally getting used to living with him and meeting such strange people. That certainly would liven up any mood meeting his group of friends and he was glad to see how Jack truly acted. The once quiet house soon filled with playful banter all day, senseless flirting and teasing remarks and blissful laughter occupied the once quiet space. Energy that he had not known from Jack came out, the little Irishman’s body practically trembling as he gained more energy, hands flying in every direction as he talked and joked, rocking back and forth on his heels as if he were ready to bound off for a race at any moment. He even came out of his room early in the morning to make Mark breakfast and sneak Tim a treat (to make up for all the weeks of shitty cooking Mark has done he had said to Bob in his next visit.) It was the best of Jack he had come to know so far. 

The once quiet and shut-in man had now become an avid presence in the local video game store, even going so far as getting a part time job there with his extensive knowledge over almost all the games that entered the store. This led to them buying him a phone, because he was out so often and Mark being the worrier he was he made sure to buy Jack a phone with minutes, his number being the first under speed dial much to Jack’s amusement as he added the name ‘Markimoo’ as the contact name. He even had come to take up drumming once more which he had told Mark used to be a long time passion of his.

Days felt shorter as they spent all of their time doing something; whether 12 hour video game sessions or cheesy horror movie marathons, or even racing through the local park with Tim sprinting at their heels they could not stop doing things with one another. The most crazy of all the things was Jack convincing him to dye his hair which Mark swore he never would do under normal circumstances; but the constant whining and pleading lead him to get a bright pink atop his head to contrast Jack’s bright green. “Oh my God,” he laughed as soon as Mark had stepped out of the salon. “We’re the fairly odd parents, we’re two halves of a whole idiot.” 

And what was most remarkable to Mark was that for those blissfilled few months they had finally come to learn a bit more about each other. 

Mark could talk on end about his life- people he knows especially those back in Cincinnati and his friend named Aaron Ash in England, to his countless dogs he had come to own during his time. He even talked about how he wanted to become an engineer for the longest time in college. “What’s really fun is games like Polybridge,” he said to Jack one day as they were laying on their backs in the grass outside his lawn. “It is like ‘hey this is how you do this thing to make it the best’ and it’s slowly builds in difficulty which is why it’s so fun.” 

“I hate that game,” Jack groaned, arm draped lazily over his eyes to block it from the sun and a smile on his lips. “I just like, put triangles everywhere. Triangles are our friends Mark. But anyways I always come to break that fucking game, it’s stupid.” 

“You’re just a sore loser,” he teased, lightly jabbing Jack in the side with a finger. Laughing, he smiled wider as he tried scooting further away from him. 

“Am not!” he squeaked, rolling over onto his stomach and looking over at Mark, head rested on his arms. Using his opportunity, he now let his eyes wander Jack’s face. He had seen his face many times, in a sleepy and dazed state, confused or even zoned out like the day he had pulled him out of the street but almost never like this. It was like the day he had seen him in the rain, he was happy. Gaunt cheeks finally started filling in as he began gaining weight, the circles under his eyes never fully disappearing but getting slightly lighter in color, and Jack’s eyes were so bright he realized. They were exactly the same shade of bright blue as his hoodie. 

His hoodie.. 

“Jack?” he asked, earning a soft hum in response. “You never take your hoodie off,” he said, not knowing why he never really realized this. “Aren’t you hot? It’s like eighty something degrees out.” 

Freezing up, Jack’s fingers gripped tightly to his arms and he swore he could hear the other grit his teeth. “Mark, don’t ask me about that please.” he said, voice stiff. 

“But why not?” sitting up, Mark looked down at Jack and frowned. “I know it’s rude of me to say, but I just don’t get why you can’t be open with me Jack. It’s not like I ask much, and I’m not asking about your personal life like you ask. I just wanna know why this hoodie.” 

Brows knitting together,he swore under his breath as he moved up quickly almost hitting Mark before standing up and glaring at him. “It is my fucking personal life Mark, I thought you’d get it.” he said turning away, walking back inside the house. 

Flopping back on the grass, he closed his eyes and hissed. “Fuck.” 

\----

Despite this slip up, things were alright between them, at least Mark thought so. Jack had talked to him about things like his love for drumming, or how back in Ireland he lived in the woods in a cabin, but the most interesting stories were of his friend named Felix in Sweden. Love stories about Felix and his girlfriend Marzia for some reason enraptured Jack and Mark teased him quite often about how he was such a lover boy. He thought things were alright. 

Until six months hit, and he got a text. 

Mark had been out grocery shopping, grocery bags in each hand he struggled to open the door and fumbled to get his phone in his back pocket. Eventually like the idiot he was, he put one of the bags handles in his mouth to free up his hand and grab the vibrating phone. The picture that popped up was Jack’s contact photo, a large green eye with a blue Irish affectionately named Sam by Jack to match with Mark’s made up character called Tiny Box Tim. Holding back a smile with the handle still in his mouth, he entered his password and opened up the message. 

‘My skin is stretched too thin, my bones are not my own they’re hollow and frail so why do I feel so heavy? My veins ache and my wrists drip, I’m put together by unfit pieces.’ 

He dropped his bags, heart racing and the blood pounding in his ears. “Oh my God,” he whispered, looking around seeing a few people eye him oddly and his strewn about groceries. Quickly he bent to gather them up, shoving them carelessly back into the paper bags before typing a quick reply back to Jack. 

Tell me you’re okay. 

Hitting send, he raced to his car and threw the bags in the back seat. The lack of replies was worrying, blood roaring in his ears as his anxiety levels shot up. “C’mon dammit, c’mon answer me,” he pleaded at his phone, turning on the car and speeding back to his house. He didn’t care if he was overreacting, but he had never heard Jack talk like that and the last line about his wrists sent red flags throughout his brain. Just as he made his way down his street he heard the phone buzz and risked a glance at it. 

‘Sorry, it was nothing. It’d make good song lyrics tho huh?’ 

Jesus christ. His heart attack dying down, Mark ran his hands over his face in frustration. Why the hell would he just send that first text then say it was nothing, it had nearly caused him to speed through three red lights and a stop sign. “Asshole,” he mumbled, now driving slower down the street before turning into his driveway. Pulling in and parking, he grabbed the groceries and his phone and walked inside, kicking his shoes off and setting the groceries on the counter. “Fuck, it’s ruined.” he groaned, looking over the crushed food items and cracked cans. “Jack, get your ass out here and help me.” he yelled, still annoyed at the text. 

When he got no response, he swore some more before walking to Jack’s room. “Hey, Jackass. You owe me some help with these groceries since you made me drop them.” Knocking on the door, he opened it finding nobody occupying the bed or the reading chair. Turning, he yelled down the hallway again. "Jack?" 

Pressing his phone to his ear, he dialed Jack and waited for the ring tone. From the bathroom. Slowly his heart beat started picking up again, hearing a quiet curse and the ring tone turning off quickly he walked to the bathroom slowly. "Jack," he called softer, pushing the door open and feeling his blood freeze. 

Looking up at him with wide and bloodshot eyes, Jack gave a terrified smile from his position on the floor. Tears streaking down his cheeks, and blood- oh my god. "Please Mark-" he whimpered pressing his bloody wrists to his chest, dropping the razor blade to the floor. "It's not what you think."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I updated a chapter and story yesterday but I've been writing to not relapse. This fic is helping keep me out of the hospital which sounds stupid but it's true. Thanks for anyone who has been sticking with it so far


	4. Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could have fucking lost him. 
> 
> He almost fucking lost Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should he do? What could he do? 
> 
> Sorry this is choppy and short, this had a lot of old emotions put into it so it's a bit crude. Hope u can enjoy anyways. 
> 
> Tw: blood, self harm

Mark had seen his fair share of injuries in his life, even had a few good ones himself. The time he broke his arm by jumping off the monkey bars at school was probably one of the top things on his ‘Stupidest Things I’ve Ever Done’ list, and a close runner up was stalling to go to the hospital after feeling intense abdominal pain. That wasn’t the most thrilling or likeable thing he’s ever experienced but still left a very prominent impression. To this day his fingers traced over the raised flesh down his stomach, feeling the bumps and the crinkled skin that sent shivers down his spine as he looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. 

The same bathroom he now saw the worst injuries of his life, boody with smeared handprints painting the floor, tears running down flushed cheeks and blue eyes staring at him bloodshot with tears. Inhaling a sharp breath he didn’t know he was holding, Mark’s voice trembled as his mind moved slowly, just screaming at him to ‘help! help him! someone please, move dammit!’ but all that came out was a whispered- 

“Jack, fuck,” his voice cracked, cutting off and he had to cover his mouth with his hand so not to start to sob. 

His friend on the floor did it for him though, the tears sliding down his flushed and raw cheeks, eyes puffy and his hair a wild mess with red strands in it where he was sure he had ran his nervous fingers and yanked at each strand. He wouldn’t stop crying, and he knew he had to try and fix it. ‘I need to fix it,’ 

Walking slowly into the bathroom, he watched as Jack curled up, shaking his head and crying harder as he held his arms to his chest trying to hide his cuts dying his white shirt red. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to see I didn’t want you to see me like this!” his voice cracked and each word sounded strained as he choked them out between frantic sobs and hiccups, shaking his head and eyes clenching closed tightly he screamed loudly pulling at his shirt. “I’m sorry I’m sorry you shouldn’t see me I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be alive right now I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

Shaking his head, his stomach twisted into knots as he watched Jack cry and apologize. God, what fucking hurt him this badly? Who fucking hurt him? Crouching down, he tried holding back his own tears and just tried shushing his friend softly, wanting so badly to pull him close to his chest. But instead, he just waited, shushing softly trying to get him to open his eyes again. 

“I’m not mad Jack,” he cooed softly, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “I’m not mad at you I promise. Hey, you hear me buddy? I’m not mad, just look at me Jack, see?” 

The blue eyes remained shut tightly,green hair sticking to his forehead by his sweat slick skin and his hands tugging and scratching at his chest and shirt, red nail marks dragging down his collar bones. A sick black dread filled Mark’s stomach, and he wondered how much more damage happened to the rest of him that he couldn’t see. 

“Sean,” he put a hand out, setting it on his shoulder gently, hating how he flinched away, body trembling harder under his touch. “Please. Just look at me?” 

Waiting, he tried dragging his eyes quickly over Jack’s body, trying to get a glimpse of his arms but they were pressed to his chest too tightly, the amount of blood soaking through his shirt made him want to vomit though. Hearing a soft sniffle, he looked back up, seeing Jack’s blue eyes barely cracked open and looking his way. Giving a small smile, he rubbed his shoulder gently with his thumb. 

“See? I’m not mad Jack, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Is that alright with you? If we can clean your arms up a bit?” trying to keep his voice level and soft, he hoped he’d just say yes. He needed to fucking hold him. The shake of Jack’s head almost made his grip tighten, but he sighed instead, voice tightening slightly. “Please,” he pleaded, starting to unravel the slightest bit. “Please Jack, I’m so fucking scared of losing you please let me help.” he pleaded. 

Eyes closing again, tears dripped down his cheeks, some catching on his lashes as he whimpered softly. “I’m so sorry,” he pulling his knees closer to his chest and hid his face in his lap, arms wrapped around his head. “I’m sorry, don’t be angry with me please. I’m so sorry I made you cry.” 

Arms wrapping around his small shaking frame, Mark held him close, pressing his face into Jack’s hair just shaking his head. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered for every whimpered apology, a hand on his shoulder and hair as he rocked with him. Closing his eyes tightly, the tears slid down his cheeks slowly. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, I got you. I got you.”  
\------

It took Mark nearly two hours to clean up Jack and for him to convince Jack to take a sleeping sedative so he could rest. That time was long and painful for the both of them, Jack’s wails turning to a soft silent cry that made Mark’s heart hurt even worse for some reason. It was like he had done this before, cried to himself so silently as not to worry anyone else and Mark for the first time wondered how alone he had been. 

It took nearly thirty minutes for Jack to show his arms, reluctant and shaking he had tried pulling away from Mark and curling against the corner when Mark tried getting him to show him his wrists. The process was long, and Mark had to sit and whisper soft words of comfort to Jack that “No, I won’t hate you for what I see. I promise I won’t laugh at you. I won’t hurt you.” But God, it tore him completely apart as Jack slowly put his arms down, showing the full extent of the damage. “Oh Jack.” he whispered. 

Long and jagged cuts littered his arms, each one looking deep and long, blood still dripping from some of the cuts and others were already starting to dry and crust. The slight swelling around the raised marks made him want to drag his fingers over them, so alike the one he had once had. But these ones so much more- so much more terrifying and every mark made him breathless for words. Looking up, he saw the terrified look in Jack’s eyes, trying to figure out if Mark was judging him. 

Forcing a small and sad smile, he tried chuckling a weak joke to ease his fear but the joke fell flat and he had to press his lips together to keep himself from sobbing. Getting up, he grabbed towels and the medicine kit from the cabinet, tugging out long strips of bandages and anti-infectant to clean the cuts. Some were so deep though, would he need stitches? Should he call a hospital? Fuck, he didn’t know, fuck. 

Despite the internal battle of what to do, and fighting down the waves of anxiety settled in his stomach he started dabbing gently with the towel at the cuts. Soft hisses came from Jack, and each flinch sent alarms of fear in his brain. After cleaning the cuts, he looked at Jack and ran his finger across the palm of his friend’s hand. “I’m sorry, but this’ll sting a bit. But you have to stay still okay?” Receiving a small nod, he dabbed a clean edge of the towel with the liquid, looking at Jack before swabbing the cuts gently. 

“Fuck-” he groaned, teeth clenched as Mark dabbed at his skin, his eyes shut tightly. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” he apologized, finishing one arm before moving to the other repeating the process with the same pained hiss. The bandages were the easiest part, covering each angry and raised red mark under the soft white fabric, tying around his lower arm almost to his shoulder. “All set,” he whispered, tying the bandages and looking at his arms. 

The rest of the time he had spent his time helping Jack change, helping him lift his sore arms slightly and pulling the soiled shirt off of him trying to be careful of his sensitive arms. He gave him the biggest and softest t-shirt he owned, helping him settle into the worn black shirt with a large red M printed across it. It was his favorite and oddly enough he hoped it would help him. He even carried Jack to the guest room, the Irishman not even complaining about it like he normally would, his small body feeling so light in his arms and he just buried his face in Mark’s chest.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he whispered as Mark set him down on his bed, his hand gripping onto the front of Mark’s shirt tightly in a small white knuckled fist. 

“Of course I won’t,” he promised, gently sliding into the bed next to him, sitting on the bed and placing the pillow on his lap. “C’mon Jack, you need to sleep.” he said, feeling exhausted as Jack slowly moved up and rested his head in his lap. Tired blue eyes couldn’t stay open, and he curled up under the touch of his Mark’s hand on his shoulder gently. “I’m not leaving. Just sleep Jack.” 

Shaking his head slightly, he held the blanket gripped in his hand tightly and he whimpered. “I don’t wanna have nightmares about it.” 

And it wrecked him again, how soft and how utterly fragile and broken his voice was. Why hadn’t he helped him before? Why hadn’t he saved him in time? “You won’t,” he rubbed circles across his shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here with you, nothing’s gonna hurt you.” 

The thank you was soft, so hushed and muffled, he barely missed it as it passed through Jack’s lips before he let himself slowly drift into sleep. Feeling tired and overwhelmed, he just closed his eyes tightly as he rubbed his friend’s shoulder. 

He could have fucking lost him. 

He almost fucking lost Jack.


	5. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything, after all of what's happened Mark realizes he has no idea who Jack is. And the idea scares him. 
> 
> So Jack decides to tell him a story. 
> 
> Mark's a good listener.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very- difficult to write. The flow is choppy and the wording is awkward and it's weirdly long, but it was hard for me personally to write this because a lot of this hits really close to home in a way. I wrote it trying to be close to the heart. Hope the wait for this chapter was worth it. I like it a lot. 
> 
> trigger warning: mentioned non com, mentioned child abuse, mentions of self harm

‘Don’t leave me alone,’

That was what Jack had asked of him, to not leave him alone. He had asked for him to stay.  
And he had wanted to, he had wanted nothing more than to stay by his friend’s side and ease his suffering if only a little. He wanted to help Jack, he wanted him to be okay once more, to know what to do to help him.

But he didn’t know what to do, so he simply stayed. He was there for the night terrors that seemed to plague Jack even throughout his daydreams, and he was there for the suppressed sobs that were as hushed as whispers though Mark lay awake to wait for them. For the kicks against the wall that sounded as monsters gripped his dreams, the sobs making his lungs pound against his chest as he choked and trembled. And Mark was there for the midday tears that seemed to drip down his cheeks so quietly, he was there to thumb them away and to tell him it’s alright when he apologized in a broken voice.

The only true times he’d leave him were to take Tim out of the house, or to use the upstairs bathroom as the downstairs one sent waves of panic coursing through him, or to make them food though Jack never really ate. He never really ate, never really slept, never really talked or smiled. He just cried and stayed in bed, and it really did kill Mark to watch as his friend slowly withdrew into himself as he had when he had first got there. To lose all sense of security they had through the many months together, it was like they were strangers again in a much too quiet house.

Nearly five days had passed since what had happened, and he just didn’t know what to do anymore. He knew he was no doctor, no therapist, he wasn’t sure how to help. How pitiful his claim when they first met had been, how he had so proudly stated to Jack that he was the shoulder to cry on if anyone needed help, that he’d be able to help fix it. How naive had that been?

No, he was no therapist, no counselor, he was just Mark Fishbach and he didn’t know what to do anymore.

They needed help.  
\--

Things were different on day eight though. 

Mark had fallen asleep on Jack’s bed, something he had grown prone to do after day five, when the night terrors would come so hard and fast for Jack that the only thing that he could do was press his body against Jack’s, hugging him tightly as fists smacked and legs flailed, hysteria in glazed over blue eyes. He had made his way into Jack’s bed, laying on the side of it with his head hanging off the pillow and his glasses lopsided off his nose, but arm around Jack’s shoulder as they slept through fitful nights. 

That’s how Mark woke. The feeling of the blanket wrapped around him made his eyes open, his hand not on a shoulder or arm but an empty space in the bed where the other usually slept. Where was he? Panic instantly flooded his mind, his body jolting upright as he looked around the room, frantic in finding where he was. Grabbing the glasses that had fallen off the bed, he fumbled out of bed, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he ran out the bedroom. He wasn’t gone was he? His stuff was still there, what if he was hurting himself again? The thought made his stomach churn as he sprinting around the house, running around all the halls and rooms before sliding into the living room and seeing-

Jack. Sitting on the couch, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and tucked over his head, knees pulled up to his chest and his a coffee cup in hand with the sound of some YouTube video by some people called the Game Grumps was playing. Stopping in his tracks, he stood there for a moment before Jack turned to look over at him. A small tired smile on his face, he rubbed at his eyes, barely open from the lack of peaceful dreams. “Hey,” he mumbled, voice sounding tired and hoarse. “How’d you sleep?” Staring at him, Mark swallowed, a hand rising up and running through his hair nervously. 

“It was ok-” he chuckled softly, biting at the inside of his cheek. Jack just nodded, looking back at the television screen, raising his cup to his lips and sipping at the hot tea. Blinking several times, Mark swallowed before walking over to the couch and taking a seat on the end of the couch, his body pressed between Tim’s who had taken up a spot next to Jack curled up in the folds of the blanket and the armrest which Mark rested against. He looked ahead at the television screen, watching what looked to be Mario World being played and listening to the two voices making gleeful jokes and playful jabs at one another as they teased and prodded. 

There was silence between he and Jack as they just stared ahead at the television, watching as the video ended and up came another one. The quiet came when the video was loading, and he felt something press against his shoulder. Looking down at his side, he looked at Jack who had his head resting against Mark’s shoulder, blanket over his head drooping down and cover his eyes. Reaching a hand up, he slowly pushed the messy unkempt hair away from Jack’s forehead and felt the other man chuckle softly. 

“I’m sorry Mark,” he mumbled, his voice sounding so small and tired. “I’ve been a burden.” 

“Don’t say that Jack,” he shook his head, pulling his arm away from pressed between them and wrapped around Jack’s shoulders as they had done so often before. Pulling him closer, he felt Tim shift and whine, the puppy getting up and hopping to the floor letting the two lean against each other, Jack’s head on his shoulder, Mark’s head on Jack’s.

Closing his eyes, Jack sighed, nestling his face into Mark’s shirt. “I worried you so much and you don’t even know what’s going on.” 

Frowning, he ran a hand gently up and down Jack’s arm, rubbing smooth circles with his fingers every so often. “I don’t need to know anything you aren’t willing to tell me Sean, you know that.” he mumbled. “All I care is you’re okay.” 

Sniffling softly, the smaller man pulled his knees tighter to his chest and shook his head. “It’s not okay Mark. You barely know me, you don’t know me. I’m not as good a person as you think I am.” Pulling himself away, Jack clutched the blanket tightly to his shoulders and whimpered staring at his lap. “I’m not good Mark, I’m bad. I’m so fucking bad, done bad things. Made you cry. Fuck me,” he buried his face in his hands, his voice cracking just like it did every time before he was about to cry. 

“Jack, c’mon,” he pleaded gently, trying to rest a hand on his friends back only for him to pull away from his touch. “I know you’re good, why would you think you aren’t?” 

“Because they told me!” he yelled angrily, frustration replacing the sorrow in his voice as his fingers clenched and dragged lines down his face. “They fucking broke me Fishbach!” he screamed. 

He was silent, eyes wide and back pressed against the armrest as he watched his friend tremble and he swore he heard the sound of his teeth grinding, the sound painful and the lines across Jack’s forehead angry and growing irritated and red already. He swallowed, absent of any sort of words of comfort, he couldn’t think of anymore as he knew himself there were times that ‘it’s okay’ and ‘it’s alright’ felt like lies so he could only ask of him- “Who did?” 

“My parents.” came the soft whisper, bitterness seeming to drip from each word, a stiff chuckle followed as well as he turned his face slightly to look at him from the corner of his eyes. “And the guy who didn’t know what no meant.”  
\---

Everything felt numb. 

It was all strangely numb, no shock, no nausea just a feeling of being absolutely chilled and empty. Jack just stared at him, his gaze so hard and yet so distant it was as if he were looking right through him and seeing what had happened instead. 

His voice seemed to be gone, opening his mouth a bit, he closed it again, not sure what to say. The soft chuckle from Jack followed by a shrug seemed to convey he got the silent message anyways though. “I know,” he said softly. “I know.” 

The hands left his face, and his body leaned back against the couch and like this, staring at the ceiling and his eyes so distant and hair so messy Mark realized for the first time despite living together for so long he had no clue who Jack was. He had no idea who this man was at all. The blue eyes remained focused on the ceiling, the sound of the television now a low distant drone as he licked his bottom lip and gripped the blanket between white knuckles. “Parents are supposed to love their kids a lot, right? Unconditionally and all that shit right?” sitting quietly, he finally lolled his head over back to Mark’s direction and looked at him blankly. “Right?” 

He didn’t bother waiting for the answer, just nodding and whispering softly, ‘right.’ Rubbing at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, the bandages peeked out from underneath the blue fabric and the sight of it made Mark’s stomach twist. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice wavering, barely a whisper itself. “Jack, what happened to you?” 

There was silence, several sniffs and shaky breaths came from the Irishman, his lip quivering before pressing together in a tight line as tears made their way down his cheeks and dripped from his face. “Parents are supposed to love you, no matter what. And they really loved my siblings, hell, they were fucking great with them, they would bring them the moon from the sky they said to them. Not me.” his voice was hollow, no more bitterness or anger, just numb. It was all numb. “They beat me Mark.” he whispered. 

“B-beat you?” his voice wavered, the fear and nausea rising suddenly and he was terrified as he started to begin to feel everything. 

Whimpering, Jack trembled slightly, shoulders shaking and fingers clenching tight. “They verbally abused me, told me I was a piece of shit, told me they hated me, that I was nothing. Am nothing. They pushed me, they shoved me and told me they’d slap me. They tried hurting me a lot Mark, so much,” 

Tears dripped down his cheeks faster, and he bit his lip hard, old memories cropping up and all he wanted was for those monsters in his closet, the monsters that gripped his dreams and choked his lungs would go away and leave him at peace for just a minute. “Cops came a few times, I’m the baby though, all my siblings were out of the house, they didn’t know anything that was going on. They didn’t even know about the time I tried to kill myself because when Mom saw my cuts she told me to get over myself. Can you believe that? Get over myself.” he laughed, the sound feeble and weak as he curled up. 

Arms went around Jack, the touch warm and this time he gave in to the comfort, wrapping his arms around Mark’s chest and burying his face in his neck. “They hurt me so much Mark. They fucking messed me up so bad. And then I finally got away, ran away from them trying to get away from them. I saved up money over the years, bought a plane ticket and came to the farthest place I could get from them, and I wanted to go somewhere where I could maybe live my goddamn life you know?” 

“So you came here,” Mark whispered softly, Jack nodded, closing his eyes as Mark ran his fingers through his messy green hair gently. 

“I was just a kid though, I was some stupid kid who knew nothing about America and the shit that goes on here but suddenly I was here with no money and no experience or place to stay. I just went from shelter to shelter, stealing shit from people or scavenging.” he snorted, gripping Mark tighter. “Eventually though some guy found me, brought me food, told me nice things. I was on the streets, I just came from a bad place and here was this person looking at me and acting like I was something, you know? Acting like I wasn’t some piece of shit that I thought I was my entire life he told me I was something and I could be so much more.” 

His head hurt, and his eyes burned, tears threatening to spill over as Mark blinked them away quickly trying to be the strong one for this though he knew where this was going, and the thought made everything in his body ache. “Oh Jack,” 

“He was a big community member, he was a good guy according to everyone that he introduced me to. He found boys who needed a mentor, needed a guiding hand he said. He sure guided his hand.” he hissed. “I was only nineteen when it happened. He told me that he’d get me a special drink, said ‘Hey Irish, you’re a man now. Why don’t you try this?’ It’s alcohol, and of course my stupid fucking self drank it. How stupid was I? I let it happen, I drank the fucking drink and everything went fuzzy and I couldn’t move and he-” 

His voice cracked as he broke down in sobs, tears staining Mark’s shirt as he cried hard, body shaking and nails biting into Mark’s sides but he took it. He took it because the pain that Jack took was worse than this, he could endure it. He’d endure it for him. His hand rubbed up and down Jack’s back, his other hand rubbing his hair softly and whispering soft ‘it’s okay’ in his ear. Pressing his head against his, tears slipped from his eyes and caught in Jack’s hair and he realized he was crying too.

They sat there, gripping each other tightly as Jack sobbed and Mark let him. This was everything they had built up to. The past several months, this past week, this is what it had led up to and he wouldn’t stop it. 

Finally Jack found his voice, the sound hiccuped and forced between wavering sobs and hiccups. His voice cracked and was strained as he took deep breaths and sighed, still shaking in his touch. “I was in the streets for a long time after that. I wandered. I couldn’t stay where I was, couldn’t bear to be with him, to be by myself and live with the thoughts of everything in my head telling me it was my fault. So I walked, I walked until I got here and for a long time I just lived between the alleys. I sat and waited, listening to the sounds of the cars trying to let them take away all the voices in my fucking head that were screaming at me, trying to peel away the feeling of his hands on my throat and arms and to hear something other than the sounds of my parents telling me I’m broken.” 

Looking up at Mark, he stared at the tears on his friend’s face and watched them fall. “Then it started to rain.” he said softly. “After everything, it brought me the rain.” 

The image of Jack, dancing through the streets flashed in his mind and Mark held him tight. “And I saw you. I saw you in the streets dancing in the rain.” 

Jack nodded, a weak smile drawn across his face. “It made me feel clean. It felt so good.” 

Mark brought a hand up, thumbing away at the tears on Jack’s cheeks and laughing softly at the image. “Oh God, Jack, you looked so goddmann happy. Oh God, oh God I’m so sorry Jack.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered to Mark. The older man hid his face in Jack’s green hair, clutching him tightly so hard it probably hurt but neither wanted to let go as if, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it because in a way it did. In a way Mark saved Jack, but Jack saved him too, saved him from his loneliness. “It’s okay Mark,” 

It’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is suffering from depression or abuse or even assault, please get some help. your lives are so important and we love you dearly.  
> i hope all of you who is reading this now has a great day. keep your head up


	6. Catch You On My Way Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once - everything is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through my first fic guys. This means a lot   
> Again all titles are based off of Finish Ticket songs

It started to rain once more. 

And just as he had the first time, Mark found himself in his car gazing up at the sunroof and watching the gentle fall of the spring’s first rain. Smile on his lips, and head tilted back he sat in his same spot in the parking lot across from Boss’s just as he had a year ago. So nostalgic, but things changed in a year. 

Jack had lived with Mark as his guest for six months, and for those six months he somehow came to invade every corner of his life. How the Irishman’s bulky drumset had come to rest in an old office room in his house, soundproof padding placed upon the walls as they had come to learn much to Mark’s surprise (but really no surprise) that the pillows and mattresses Jack had stacked against the walls did nothing to muffle the sounds. Or how hoodies littered his floors, arrays of blues and reds and greens were spread around messily from the many times Jack had carelessly thrown his clothing. How Mark’s culinary skills improved substantially meaning he could impress Bob and Wade by making more than just egg in a cup and flavored noodle packets. 

Six months had gone by seamlessly, the shyness and uncertainty that each had for one another gone and hesitant conversations turned into boisterous laughter late at night as they whispered jokes to each other, or playful banter early in the morning to Saturday morning cartoons. Everything about Jack had seemed so perfect, wonderful in the way he seemed to touch everything in Mark’s life and somehow making that already wonderful thing become even more perfect than it already was. 

He made Mark feel perfect. 

Then the incident happened, the one that still sent Mark’s stomach twisting into knots and an uneasy feeling across his skin making gooseflesh rise. The images of Jack’s small and thin body pressed against the bathroom counter as he bled and cried still made his eyes burn slightly. The eight excruciating days that followed, the pain and misery and crying that they both did as nightmares and fears rose and he tried everything he could to save his friend from drowning in the waves of fear and self-loathing that threatened to engulf him at anytime. How Jack confessed to him well- everything- had told him everything about himself, spilled out all his secrets between shaky breaths and muffled sobs and for once Mark felt like he truly knew his friend. 

But now they weren’t friends. And sometimes Mark still found himself gazing at the empty guest bedroom and it’s neatly folded blankets and it’s embroidered pillows. 

But then he’d go into his bedroom, he’d turn on the soft noise machine to rain and crawled into bed. And he smiled each time his chest met warm body nestled underneath the covers, a hand coming up and rubbing softly at the cheeks covered in light stubble and hearing the soft inhale as blue eyes opened and he turned to face his boyfriend.

It had been two months after Jack’s confession did Mark share his own- Jack sharing his past and Mark now sharing his feelings. The conversation came awkward and hesitant, gentle coaxing and soft coos eventually lead up to Mark getting the courage to tell Jack that he loved him. “I love the way that you hum Irish folksongs when you make breakfast, or how you twirl your pencils just like you twirl your drumsticks, or how you seem to bounce with energy,” he had said all in one rushed breath, Jack’s eyes wide as Mark turned red as he rambled on. “I wanted to say I love you when you laugh and how your eyes are so goddamn blue and how your smile is just a little bit crooked which is so cute and makes my heart flutter and-” 

Gasping for breath, Mark let Jack hug him as he trembled from nervousness, hands gripping back onto Jack as now it was his turn to be comforted. “I love the way you make me feel and I love you even when you’re sad and I love you when you’re happy and I just love you Sean.” 

He had waited for that rejection, waited for the push away but neither came. He still remembered how soft Jack’s voice had been as he whispered back that he loved him too and it was fucking time that Mark told him. 

He remembered their first kiss, how soft and warm and so absolutely perfect it had been and how each one after still was. How their first fight left them breaking down as beer bottles littered the kitchen counters and how Jack collapsed onto the floor sobbing as they screamed profanities at one another. He remembered Jack getting drunk, the other man coming to Mark and telling him he was sorry, he was so goddamn sorry and Mark said he didn’t give a fuck about what they did he just wanted him back and it was gonna be okay. 

Some days were good. They were plentiful and rich, days where video games seemed endless, sweets were eaten to such a quantity Jack jokes how he was going to get cavities because Mark was so sweet. Midnight cuddling and gentle kisses under the covers, and mornings waking to see the other still sleeping with Tim curled up at the foot of the bed. It had felt so perfect. 

Of course there’s bad days, days where Jack’s depression would batter his chest and fasten around it in a vise like grip. The tears seemed endless on those days, silent crying and violent breakdowns, there were even days where Mark got frustrated with him for it. 

But those days became slimmer and slimmer until they became barely a memory. There was also days where it rained. They were the good days. 

He smiled to himself, eyes drooping closed to the sound of the lulling rain until loud banging on his window made him flinch and his eyes jolt open to look at Jack standing outside his door, smiling like an idiot as he stood in the rain with his hair barely keeping out of his eyes he laughed loudly. “C’mon Mark! Get out here!” he pulled the door open, extending a hand for him to pull him out. 

“Oh hell no Jackaboy,” he chuckled, trying to push him away only to be grabbed and tugged out. “Jack c’mon! These are my good clothes I don’t wanna get them muddy,” he whined, eventually letting his boyfriend pull him out though. Standing chest to chest Jack smirked up at Mark, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s chest and squeezing gently. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of them soon,” he teased, making Mark scoff. 

“You’re such a perv.”

“I’m your perv.” he giggled, leaning up for a soft kiss. Hands on Mark’s back, and Mark’s hands in his hair they kissed deeply before pulling away and Jack leaping around the muddy puddles. “Come on Mark! Gotta catch me!” 

Shaking his head, Mark scoffed and ran after him, laughing loudly. He was glad out of everything, he was brought the rain.


End file.
